


Days in December

by clarnicamhalai



Series: Midsomer Magic [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Midsomer Murders - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Midsomer Magic, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:56:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21915880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarnicamhalai/pseuds/clarnicamhalai
Summary: DS Ben Jones loves Christmas; Daphne Greengrass is learning to love it too.
Relationships: Daphne Greengrass/Ben Jones
Series: Midsomer Magic [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/560521
Kudos: 14





	Days in December

**Author's Note:**

> I saw an ep like 5 years ago where Ben stated ‘I love Christmas’ and decorated his desk in the show and then I had to write a Christmas fic... so I started and then took half a decade to come back to it, but now it's Christmas again so here's a slices of life fic set in December.

_o, christmas tree_

_._

Detective Sergeant Ben Jones balanced the miniature Christmas tree, stocking, lights and tinsel precariously in his arms, carefully navigating the stairs of the townhouse into which he’d recently moved. He was humming ‘O, Christmas Tree’ as he descended, much to the annoyance of the blonde woman following in his wake.

“_Enough_, Jones,” she pleaded wearily. “Must you be so festive? It’s only the first of December!”

“Which _means_ that it’s almost Christmas!” Ben tilted his head back to deliver her a wide smile. “Oh, don’t be such a Grinch, Daph,” he added fondly when she merely raised a sardonic eyebrow.

“And I can’t believe you’re taking all that into the office,” she appended, tugging the door open so he could leave and trailing him out to the car. “I mean, it’s a constabulary not a nursery.”

“Someone’s got to bring the Christmas spirit,” Ben replied, depositing the bundle onto the passenger’s seat. Daphne sighed and he grasped her chin, pressing a tender kiss to her temple. “See you tonight.”

_._

_silver bells_

_._

Daphne waved him on his way again some few days later, a fond, if somewhat exasperated, smile on her face as the sound of carols rose out of the car stereo as he drove away.

Hiding away in the kitchen she retrieved her wand – pine and unicorn hair, eleven and a quarter inches – from the back of the middle drawer underneath the microwave and summoned her mug from her bedside table. The tea Ben had brewed earlier was still hot so after a quick _scourgify_ she poured some for herself, tucking her legs into her oversized jumper as she sat meditatively at the pinewood table.

Daphne Greengrass was a witch.

More than that, she was a pureblood daughter from a family of firm Separatists – yet here she was living as a muggle in a muggle county with a muggle policeman for a boyfriend. Merlin only knew how that had happened!

Well, Merlin and Horace Slughorn.

Her former professor had helped her (and a number of other young ‘blood-traitors’) to escape the nasty events since her graduation by organising for her to hide away in the largely muggle south of England. She’d gladly agreed, despite the necessity of losing all contact with her family and friends, and very soon after had found herself in the Midsomer town of Causton with the keys to a quaint little cottage and a leaflet with the inspiring title ‘Muggle 101’.

She’d had a lot to learn; but she’d hidden her wand and embraced life as a muggle.

The first year had been a nightmare; she’d been perpetually fearful that the Death Eaters would find her and kill her for being a traitor to the cause. Things had fallen into place a little more comfortably once she’d met Ben. Now, they were living together, her secret still undiscovered, and for once in her life she was, shockingly, truly happy. Her exact whereabouts were still unknown to her magical acquaintances, though the war had come to an end at the dawn of the new millennium (Potter finally the victor), but Daphne was rather content to leave it that way – for the moment, at least. She still saw them occasionally, but only ever in Diagon Alley and never was Ben’s name mentioned.

She sipped at her tea.

A large feline leapt fluidly onto the tabletop; to a muggle it looked like a very large housecat with an extremely tufted tail, but Daphne knew this wasn’t so – the creature was a kneazle, a magical beast known for its intelligence and the useful ability of rooting out a person’s innate qualities. _If the kneazle likes you good things will come – so the saying goes,_ Daphne thought with a smile as she scratched the feline under the chin.

Yoric was a recent addition. Ben, easily the kneazle’s favourite, had bestowed the name the very night the witch had brought him home and, from that moment on, much to Daphne’s horror, the animal absolutely would not respond to anything else – Yoric he was, and Yoric would he remain.

Ben, being a cat person, hadn’t needed much convincing when it came to keeping the feline, though he was admittedly a little astonished by the creature’s sheer size – a regular housecat Yoric was not, that was for sure – but Daphne had mumbled a suitable enough explanation and any further discussion on Yoric’s questionable breed and pedigree was soon forgotten.

Levitating her empty mug to the sink just to keep in practice, Daphne sighed.

“What do you think, Yoric?” she asked, cuddling the large creature. “Am I a big Grinch?”

Yoric gazed up at her with a placid yet somehow judgemental expression.

“Oh, alright!” she said defensively. It was a bit unfair that even her familiar was judging her on her lack of Christmas spirit.

_Perhaps a few baubles here and there wouldn’t go amiss_, she reneged; she’d managed to hold Ben back very successfully when it came to decorating the interior of the house – in fact, she’d only backed down on the Christmas tree and some pale blue fairy lights which now framed the front window.

Depositing the kneazle on the table, she approached the hallway with a contemplative look. She held her wand aloft then swished out a curvy reverse ‘h’ below the archway leading to the reception room; delicate silver-blue baubles, her mother’s favourite, erupted from her wand to line the arch.

Next, she pressed her wand to the banister. She murmured a spell and a length of blue tinsel emerged, spiralling its way to the top of the staircase.

_There_, she thought happily. Nobody could say she wasn’t in the Christmas spirit now.

She looked at her work with satisfaction. Yoric stared plaintively at the dangling end of the tinsel. Daphne, intending to delay the inevitable moment when he’d tear it off, conjured a small section for him and watched as he was wholly absorbed in a joyous game.

She wandered from room to room, magically decorating each one for the rest of the day, and only when she had to go out and do the groceries did she pause. Every now and then she caught herself humming the Celestina Warbeck version of ‘God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs’ and grimaced; it was truly one of the most irritating songs she’d ever had the misfortune to hear.

At about four-thirty in the afternoon, as she was adding one romantic (and _entirely_ sappy) final touch, she heard the front door open. Quickly, she stowed her wand in the first available hiding place – a vase of white, plastic lilies that Ben had received from his mother as a housewarming gift – and turned just in time to see him cross the threshold.

He shook the collar to dislodge the snow gathered there, looked up–

And froze.

Staring in awe at the changes, his eyes widened as if to better take in the Christmas spirit that had suddenly taken root in his home.

“Surprise,” Daphne said meekly from beneath a sprig of mistletoe.

The smile that bloomed on Ben’s face was worth all the Christmas spirit in the world, she thought in the split second before the space between them was closed. His kiss was swift and vivacious, a physical thanks, but as she wrapped her arms around his neck it became languid and appreciative.

A moment later, Ben, still wearing his coat and scarf over his smart suit, pulled back slightly: “As much as I’m going to regret saying this,” he murmured, “I think I should probably get changed before I drag slush and snow all through the house.”

Daphne, hands still clutching at the lapel of his coat, kissed him promptly. “That’s a shame,” she sighed cheekily.

“Don’t tempt me,” Ben scolded, removing his shoes, dropping his scarf on the hall table and hanging up his coat. He threw down his wallet and keys and followed his girlfriend as she led him up the tinsel-wrapped stairs.

While he showered, Daphne sprinted downstairs once more and fished her wand out of the vase. She’d have to tell him soon; secrets like magic didn’t take kindly to concealment. Nevertheless, she returned the pine wand to the drawer. _Today is not the day,_ she mused, closing it firmly.

She’d started on dinner by the time Ben walked into the kitchen, hair still wet, unashamedly sporting a festive, red and white, hand-knitted jumper.

“I thought you hated Christmas?” he said, cuddling her around the waist as she cut the vegetables for their soup.

“It was never worth the celebration before,” she replied.

He frowned. “Maybe I can change that.”

She leaned back against him with a small smile. “You’ve certainly made a good start.”

_._

_o, holy night_

_._

She added little things during the days leading up to Christmas as she thought of them (or Ben offhandedly professed a desire for something in particular) and she was so gratified by the expression of joy and love in his eyes each time that she began to feel more and more in the spirit of things, even deigning to agree to partner Ben to his work Christmas party the day before Christmas Eve, something she’d never agreed to before. He was more than delighted.

Since the constabulary was a small one, and in a middling county, the event was not as ostentatious as some of the Wizarding functions she’d attended in her life, but it was warm and enjoyable nonetheless, oozing with festivity and fun.

Daphne met Ben’s immediate superior, Detective Chief Inspector Tom Barnaby (one of the county’s more legendary figures), the DCI’s wife, and several colleagues of whom she’d only known by name previously. They were all very kind and it certainly made her feel full of good cheer to be welcomed so benevolently.

There had been games and jokes and prizes, and even a little carolling, and by the end of the evening she was thoroughly exhausted, held upright only by the crook of Ben’s arm around her waist. Slightly tipsy she slurred a few incriminating sentences regarding her origins, but Ben thankfully put it down to imaginative inebriated rambling and took no more notice of it than he would have had she said the sky was green.

He took her home, put her to bed, and everything was as it should be.

_._

_the north wind_

_._

Christmas Eve in the Greengrass household was rarely festive.

Oh, the house looked the part, with its expensive decorations and many well-lit trees, but there was no feeling of goodwill and happiness in the old manor house. Just feelings of competition, grandeur and pretension. Daphne had never enjoyed it.

Her childhood memories were of stuffy dinner parties and being kept in the nursery while the rich and richer schmoozed downstairs with each other and got progressively more drunk and disorderly as the evening went on.

It was such a stark contrast to tonight.

A quiet afternoon tea with Ben’s grandmother had been lovely; then, afterwards, Ben had organised ice skating at their local park (which had an outdoor rink set up over the season). They’d been given complimentary roasted white chocolate drinks with delicate shavings of nutmeg and their cheeks had turned pink from the cold as they glided across the ice. Singing had carried over the wind as carolers made their way through the streets and Daphne had felt like she understood the meaning of Christmas for the first time in her life.

Now, they were snug at home looking at Ben’s painstakingly decorated tree and the few presents they’d found each other that sat beneath it, ready and waiting for morning.

While they sipped contentedly at their teas, Ben observed Daphne’s fabulous blue and silver decorations from where they were cuddling on the lounge.

“How did you do it?” he asked suddenly. “All of this. It’s wonderful.”

Daphne allowed herself a private smile, snuggling further into his side.

“_Magic_,” she whispered, leaning over to drop a loving kiss on his cheek. Yoric jumped from the floor to join them, purring loudly as he settled against their warm forms while a muggle singer quietly crooned carols in the background.


End file.
